


all these bad habits

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Clay Jensen, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: "What did you do to your hair?" were the first words out of Justin's mouth when he stopped giggling, "Dude, you look like Alex when he first moved here."Then his face turned serious, tinged with horror, "Please don't get a nose piercing. I'm disowning you as my brother if you get any face piercings."Clay merely glared at him.His parents were still standing speechless; his mother had that vaguely glazed smile that tried to hide the terror in her eyes. It reminded Clay uncomfortably of when they were trying to convince him everything would be alright, whilst he was being held in observation on a psych ward. But his father actually grinned broadly."I think it suits you, Clay," said Matt, "I think you should keep it like this."*That time Clay accidentally joined a rock band.[03 Jan 2021- ON HIATUS: As you know, this world is kinda tearing at the seams and I just don't have enough time right now to give these stories what they deserve. Seemy profilefor more info/to contact me. I will not be replying to comments on fics until further notice.]
Relationships: Clay Jensen/Original Male Character(s), Justin Foley & Clay Jensen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	all these bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> This entirely Dylan's fault, for dropping OK with [that look](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSNcGYkp8v8). If you've not experienced the pure joy that is Dylan's band Wallows you should _really_ check them out, they're so good!

Clay didn’t even volunteer for it. He’d seen the obnoxiously bright posters all around campus; the same message photocopied onto coloured paper, begging for band members; singers, keyboardists and drummers in particular. But he never gave them a second thought until Heidi called his attention to it.

“You should go for it,” Heidi said cheerfully, “You have a nice voice.”

Clay looked at her in disbelief, as though she had admitted she was secretly a robot. Quickly catching the incredulity mingled with confusion that Clay did nothing to hide, she laughed at him and elaborated.

“I heard you singing with Zach, at the Find Your Drink party,” she said.

Still, even though she planted the seed, Clay was still not prepared to audition for a band. When would he have time to be in a band, in between hunting down cheap second-hand versions of the ridiculously expensive books he needed, going to the parties he promised Justin he’d attend, and y’know, actual class and studying on top of that.

“The first year doesn’t count,” Heidi sighed in exasperation, waving a yellow poster in his face when she turned up for their next library session.

Clay simply made a face, but he crammed the flamboyant A4 paper into his folder, so she would at least be temporarily satisfied. But he didn’t go to the audition. Clay has never been delusional enough to chase dreams of stardom in a rock band.

He plays the guitar because his dad does, and wanted to teach him. It was great bonding time when Clay was in elementary and middle school, but it petered off after that. Once Clay could play to a competent level, there was no need for lessons. Occasionally, they’d have a jam session in the garage. But it was really only at Justin and Zach’s insistence that Clay ever played in the man-cave, their nickname for the shed that had been converted into their small apartment.

Still, despite his severe reluctance, Clay ended up singing- karaoke, because his roommate had teamed up with Heidi. A bunch of them went to a karaoke bar not far off campus, and Clay was pushed onto the stage by eager classmates. He picked a Bon Jovi song so he could be loud, and so that everyone singing along made him feel like less of a gooseberry, alone out front.

It was only later, when a tall, skinny kid with a mop of messy brown waves for hair was dragging Clay outside, that he was informed that he accidentally just auditioned for the band.

*

Clay agreed to meet them, only because he was being stalked. Heidi enabled this, once she discovered from his roommate Todd that yes, the band was interested in having Clay for lead vocals. Clay had zero interest in being the frontman for a rock band. Which is what he actually scoffed to Todd, forgetting the basketball player had been corrupted by Heidi’s enthusiasm. Next study session, Clay was confronted by the skinny guy, Drew, and his friend Callum, the two responsible for the posters. 

They’re a year ahead of Clay, majoring in music theory, and actually serious about making it big as musicians. If they can’t be an actual band, their fallback plan is to be the stage band for touring acts, or backing guitarists, maybe even a tribute act- anything to stay in the scene so they can keep working on their own music, and keep trying to land a deal of their own. Clay’s very soul cringed at the idea of such a transient occupation. He wanted to leave Brown – an Ivy League university! – with a degree he can frame and hang in his future office. He just has no idea what kind of profession that office will be for yet. But that’s fine, he has time.

He severely underestimated the persistence of his new shadows, who dogged his steps until Clay agreed to have a jam session with them.

“Dude, if we don’t gel, we’ll know it,” Callum reassured him, “But it’ll be dope, I know it, and you’ll wonder why you were dragging your feet so damn much.”

Clay huffed, but arranged to meet them if only to get them off his back. They’ll see that the karaoke machine probably improved his voice and they’re making a big mistake, and that will be that.

*

The jam goes really well. Too well. Clay can’t remember having so much fun, well, ever. He loves his friends back in Evergreen, is literally prepared to die or risk jail for them, but damn if all of his interactions in his hometown aren't soured by the pervading sense of dread that all their shared secrets emanate. It’s ridiculously fun to sing loud covers of songs the three of them love, without any discussion or background dread of all the serious shit he’s hiding.

Dr Allman seems proud of Clay for stepping out of his comfort zone and embracing something new, along with the new friendships that come with it.

Drew and Cal are not like the friends Clay made at Liberty. They remind him of Skye actually; tattoos, interesting hairstyle choices and a mishmash of bizarre accessories (Drew has taken to wearing goggles over a beanie at all times). The difference is that Skye kind of dressed like rock royalty, in black with silver jewellery, whereas his new bandmates dress like it’s still the 90s- oversized layers in plaid and bright colours. Clay kind of loves it.

Writing songs doesn’t come naturally at first. Clay has no experience writing poetry, but his new friends keep insisting he write about what he knows, things that caused strong emotion, and, well. That’s a can of worms but it gets him thinking. Clay writes dark songs, about isolation and fear, the corruption that allows men to take advantage of the system, drug use, school shootings, being trapped in a psych ward and suicide.

“Well this is all fucking dark,” Drew said cheerfully, when presented with his efforts, “Who know you were an emo at heart, Jensen?”

Clay blushed horribly, wanting to melt into the furniture.

“I love it,” Cal said breezily, “Especially if we keep the tunes upbeat; happy indie. It worked for Foster the People. You know how many people don’t realise Pumped Up Kicks is about a school shooting? You get a catchy hook and no one cares.”

“Yeah?” said Clay, slowly starting to feel like less of a freak for providing such dark material for people who don’t know him like that. His college rep is somewhat what he was back in freshman year at Liberty- quiet, unassuming Clay Jensen. No one here knows he led a riot with a megaphone, prevented an actual school shooting, vandalised a bunch of shit and, you know, framed a dead boy for murder.

…Goddamn, his time in high school was really fucked up.


End file.
